Climbing jasmine, opening rose,
nightingale song, these are
inside the chill November
wind. They are its secret.
How did you discover mine?
YOUR LAUGH. Only the soul
knows what love is. This
moment in time and space is
an eggshell with an embryo
crumpled inside, soaked in
spirit-yolk, under the wing
of grace, until it breaks free
of mind to become the song
of birds and their breathing.
Rumi